As the morning wore on, the door opened, and the handsome steward entered. He gazed upon Masthlion with surprise. The potter was gaunt, haggard, and wasted—a single night had scored his face with the careworn furrows of twenty years. ‘Well!’ said the latter, starting up with an unsettled look, which had supplanted his usual calm gaze. ‘Well!’ ‘Well!’ echoed the Greek, regarding him with undisguised curiosity. ‘What message from the hoary tyrant—what are his commands?’ ‘None, as yet, Surrentine—and speak respectfully of your betters, for walls have ears.’ Masthlion sank back on his pallet, and dropped his head on his hand with an action of utter weariness, mental and physical. ‘Hark’ee, brother; no one has seen or heard anything of you since yesterday, when I took thee to the presence chamber—have you never stirred from here since I quitted you?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have neither eaten nor drunken?’ The potter shook his head. ‘Nor slept either, I daresay.’ ‘I think not.’ ‘In truth, you look like a man who has been sealed up in a vault for a month. What is the trouble? Is it because your business has gone amiss with Caesar, or that he scared your life half away—or both? At any rate this is not the way to mend it. I recommend meat and drink and fresh air, taking care not to breathe the latter beyond the outer gate.’ ‘Thanks!’ replied Masthlion, rising; ‘you are kind. I will do as you say, and wait and hope for the freedom of these cursed walls.’ ‘Hum—if you lived in them long enough you would be more guarded in your language. Your visit has not been pleasant—it is hard to have one’s expectations unduly knocked on the head—you take it to heart, and you have had an ill night of it.’ ‘It has passed now.’ ‘Every man to his own way. If you had tried to drown your sorrow, instead of nursing it, you would have been a better man this morning.’ ‘Every man to his own way,’ said Masthlion, with a wan smile. ‘The gods be praised—mine now lies elsewhere,’ returned Zeno. ‘Mark! don’t attempt to pass the outer gate!’ So saying, he vanished, and Masthlion, after a few more minutes’ reflection, followed, to act on the recommendation of the steward, and break his long fast. His misery of mind led him to shun, as far as possible, all intercourse with others; so, hastily swallowing a few mouthfuls of food and a hearty draught of rough wine, apart in a quiet corner, he stole out‐of‐doors.